Amano Odiare te, Amore Mio
by katyaleighb
Summary: Hey guys! Story suggestion, let me know your opinion/ if you would be interested. Will be about an angry, cocky mafia prince edward, and a pissed off, butt kicking Bella. Possible triggers for some because I plan to write mutual violence (knock down drag outs between the two), lots and lots of sex and many, many arguments.


Hey guys! new story idea, let me know what you think- definitely rated M, and there will be lots and lots of violence...and sex...and violent sex. Wewt!

Just posting to measure interest, then if you guys like it I'll start writing chapters :)

Read and have fun!

I don't own this shit, duh.

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"Tra moglie e marito...non mettere il dito"- Don't meddle in a quarrel between a husband and his wife.

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Glass is pretty. It's smooth, easily picks up various temperatures, can be tinted to various colors of the rainbow, and when it shattered it turned into thousands of glittering shards that captured the light and shone into something resembling a glow. The only time glass wasn't pretty, was when you were hurtling towards it, and it shatters around your body on impact. It's even less pretty when all those reflective shards pierce your shoulder and make it look like you have a bejeweled porcupine sticking out of your right side.

Panting resounded in the room- both sets falsely controlled, his huffing out of his nose while he waits for her to get up, and hers puffing out of her chest. She focuses on swallowing back the pain, filtering it until her mind only registers a dull burn coursing through her shoulder. She begins to move and glass shards slide off of her, some catching in the torn fabric of her clothes, some falling to the floor with little _clink, clink, clink's, _as they join their missing pieces on the floor.

Her body rolled smoothly into a crouch, body wound tight, ready to launch. Almost black-brown eyes looked into the piercing green ones that had come a little closer since she hit the glass. Blood leaking down her arm was ignored. Looking him over, she inwardly rejoiced at the blood stains on the knife-slashed white tank top that was pasted to his body with sweat.

He watched her, waiting for a muscle to twitch, her eyes to shift, _something_ to warn him, but she was fucking _lethal_. Maybe it was his patriarchal raising, or just sheer bias, but he never expected her to fight like _this. _She was _vicious. _She was still. Nothing moved, nothing clenched. Her blood seemed to have halted its flow down her shoulder when she sat up and crouched, right before she turned into a stone statue. Yes, he threw her into a cabinet after landing a few hits, but that was only after they had each landed equally as rough blows to each other, fighting for the last hour and a half and neither of them had slowed down until now. This pause was a defining moment. Both waited for a truce to be called-Neither wanted to be the ones to step up to the job. Seems to be a common theme in arguments between husbands and their wives.

He rolls his shoulders back and reaches an arm back, grasping his tank top between his shoulder blades and whipping it off over his head.

Stupid thing was ruined anyway.

She lifted herself out of her crouch, more glittering shards falling around her as she shakes them off of her arms.

Her white knuckled grip on her knife shifted as she flexed her fingers, readjusting their placement on the weapon. Emerald orbs flicked down to her head, watching her grip shift. He really, really didn't want any more knife wounds. Hers cut deep and even if they were just slices, they stung like a bitch.

This needed to end, and as stubborn as he was- there were moments where she was worse. Seeing as how both of their guns had been discarded, the machete she pulled out of one of the wall decorations was embedded in one of the pillar hallways, all of the knives he had on his person were buried in various walls around the house, as were the rest of hers...he figured that he should be the bigger person and step down first.

He really, fucking hated being stabbed and cut. She was way too good at it.

"_Baby_", he crooned- dark eyes watched his mouth.

"Let's stop this."

His boots thudded softly against the wood floors, accented with the crunching of the glass underfoot as he slowly made his way over to his wife.

"We can finish this by talking...we got a little...heated...and we both need to just calm down", a crooked smile spread across his lips as he stepped a little closer towards her tense body. She just stared at him, cheeks flushed, sweat rolling down her skin with her hair clinging to her- identical to his own state.

He's just happy she didn't kill him when he asked her to _calm down_.

Girls hated that shit. This girl, especially.

"Drop the knife _baby girl_," he just kept crooning, and as much as she hated it, she loved it. That voice could melt a fucking diamond.

He stepped forward, steadily crowding her back to the broken cabinet, until she stood at her full height against him, her body relaxing its defensive stance as he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her towards him. He nudged her head back with his lightly, and pressed soft kisses to her full lips, pecking them down the soft line of her jaw to her ear, his tongue flicking over the diamond stud that he bought her, before gliding lightly up the edge of her ear. He grinned when he felt her shiver and melt in his arms.

His kisses descended down her neck, tongue lapping up the salty trails of sweat and the more iron tainted spots of blood-hers or his he isn't sure- speckling her skin in spots.

She moaned and shuddered in his arms, and could feel him smirk against her skin. Her free hand snaked up to rake through his hair, dragging down from the crown to the nape and pulling the wild, sweat soaked strands. She pressed against him, her breasts rubbing right along his chest in his stooped position, and she moaned louder when his mouth came back up to join hers.

He pulled away right before he kissed her, looking into those big brown eyes and grinning fully at his wife.

He had a _wife_.

He had a wife that could beat the _shit_ out of him.

He had never been so proud in his life.

Licking the blood and salt off of his lips, he lowered his mouth, intending to kiss her until she fell apart, and right before his lips met hers- her weight shifted to far over and he found himself automatically flinging his body weight backwards towards the floor, making the wide arc she had made with her knife-carrying hand completely miss exactly where his neck was.

His back slammed into the floor, muffled crunches sounding as glass embedded itself in his shoulders, making him grit his teeth and hiss out a drawn out "_Bitch."_

Narrow green slits watched as his _wife_ stepped forward, a pout on her soft pink lips as she widened her stance to stand on either side of him, and squats over him, her lower lip jutting out further.

She draws a fingertip down his bare chest, momentarily distracting herself with the deep ridges creating the muscles on his torso.

"Oops?"

Tossing the knife behind her, she lowers herself down fully, lining her breasts up with his chest and pushing down. He groans in pain and his hips lift up, bucking into hers and making a wicked grin spread across her lips.

Warm, large hands slide up her spine, one holding her, and gripping the back of her head to haul her mouth to his. The kiss isn't soft, it's not sweet. It's hard and her teeth clack against his sometimes, when her tongue isn't fighting against his and his tongue isn't dominating hers until she's whimpering into his mouth and squirming on top of him. The kiss makes her tremble as he sucks out her air and replaces it with just _him_.

His lips suck off of hers audibly, making her eyes fly open and a pitiful whimper leave her lips. She really did need him. Her focus locked and found his hadn't gone too far and she tried to press her lips back against his, but his grip on her hair held her tight, making pain throb through her skull.

She didn't want to talk, she just wanted him.

Her eyes clenched shut , a frown wrinkling the little space between her eyebrows and felt his lips push against hers, not quite kissing her, but mumbling, "Forgive me, _cara mia."_

She peeked down at him, gasping against his lips at the open heartbreak that's staring back at her. He didn't know that she loved him too much to _not_ forgive him.

Not just for _this_, but for all of it. For taking everything from her, then taking _her_. Keeping her against her will and yelling and tormenting her.

For taking care of her and making her fall in love with him.

She needed him. Desperately so. She never needed any man other than those in her family. She needed to take a leap of faith.

"I...I d-do."

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Sooooo? Thoughts? Comments? Love/hate?

Review!


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